InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Beginning or The End? ❯ The Beginning, or The End? ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be busy signing the next three movie deals. Instead, that job belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.

 

……

 

Warning: Dark imagery, sexual situations.

 

Summary: (One-shot) Where does the story end, and where does it begin?

……

 

 

The Beginning, or The End?

 

……

 

She was safe.

 

Of course she was safe; he had protected her. It had been this way from the beginning, had it not? He would protect, and she would stay by his side. And so they had journeyed, a human girl and a magical creature, one providing his strength, the other giving her loving heart.

 

But now their mutual agreement was shattered beyond repair, ripped apart like the forest around them, damaged like the old well lying in ruins in the clearing, torn to pieces…torn to pieces like his body. He had protected her to the last, but he had fulfilled his end of the bargain with his life. The pact between them was now void, for how could she stay by his side if he was no longer there?

 

Darkness began to filter through the edges of her vision, giving rise to the brief hope that their bargain could continue in the worlds beyond. The fight had inflicted great damage upon her frail human form, and she knew that she hadn't the strength to move her battered and torn body. Perhaps she would join him, she thought, but this tantalizing image was crushed as she remembered that death would send them along different paths. And besides, some stubborn, unreasonable part of her soul absolutely refused to give up on life so easily. Over and over again, her protector's sword had taught her an unforgettable lesson - time in this world is precious; cling to it tightly.

 

How long she remained in that blood-drenched spot, she didn't know. She paid no heed to the sounds of approaching footsteps, or to the exclamations of those who found her. When rough hands grabbed her and slung her across broad shoulders, she allowed her heavy eyes to close and dreamed of pools of liquid gold.

 

……

 

How many years had passed since that day - ten, twelve? She wasn't certain, for she'd long since halted her foolish habit of keeping track. What was the point in counting the days when your life held so little meaning? When each morning greeted you with drudgery and brutality, why anticipate the arrival of the next one?

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this, she often thought despairingly. This shouldn't be her life, spending her days as little more than a kitchen slave, spending her nights entertaining the daimyo's son. It occurred to her that she hadn't properly appreciated that long-ago time when she could move about the countryside freely. These days, she didn't dare set foot outside the daimyo's fortress for fear of encountering a worse situation than the one she currently occupied.

 

And it could be worse; this she knew from bitter experience. At least her belly was full of food. Also, the daimyo's son was kind, in his own rather careless way, and his demands upon her tired body were often pleasurable. He was not a man who proved his strength by tormenting the helpless, unlike his brute of an uncle…

 

Dark memories made her shiver. The uncle was twisted by cruel lusts, something he'd demonstrated all too well upon her arrival at the fortress. Of all the humans or youkai who could have stumbled across her wounded body, why did the one to find her have to be him? She could still remember his triumphant crow as he shook her from the realm of sleep, proclaiming loudly that this particular hunt had yielded a game far better than usual.

 

The uncle had broken her innocent body and plunged her into a nightmare of pain and hate. And for three long, torturous years - until the cruel bastard decided she was too old for his particular tastes - she had wondered if she might not be better off dead. Even afterward, when the daimyo's son had found pleasure in her lithe form, she continued to wonder just why it was that she stayed in this mortal realm. Late at night, when all was silent save for the sound of her sobbing, she contemplated running a kitchen knife through her heart, or at the very least, throwing herself from the highest watchtower.

 

Two things prevented her from doing so. The first was her inexplicable desire to remain alive, in spite of the turn her life had taken. The other was a memory of golden eyes, tawny orbs that she just knew would reflect disappointment if she were to cast her life aside. He had paid for her life with his; she would honor that sacrifice. And so she trudged onward through the days and spent her nights in tears, remembering friends and family and the magical creature she had loved.

 

……

 

The creature they brought into the fortress was terribly broken, the spirit inside him extinguished to the point where it was difficult to tell he wasn't human. Blood and gore matted and caked the long hair, disguising the silver threads and covering the pointed ears. Dirt and grime stained the once-translucent skin. Had the daimyo not lifted the creature's head, forcing the golden eyes to open, she might not have recognized the prisoner.

 

Kneeling before them all, in chains that were obviously miko-fortified, was her protector's brother. It had to be him, for who else was in possession of such coloring? But this pitiful being bore no resemblance to the proud creature she'd seen so long ago. Instead, something sad and lost was animating this shell, leaving only a tiny, dull spark of a flame in the back of his eyes.

 

It sickened her, seeing something so wonderful reduced to an empty cipher. Unsure of what she could accomplish but wanting to do something, she hid a sharp knife in her clothing and waited for an opportunity to visit the creature. Perhaps she would free him or perhaps he would ask her to kill him; it didn't matter in the end. She just wanted more for him than a life condemned to suffering.

 

When at last she bribed the guards into allowing her access to his dank prison cell, it turned out that she could offer him neither freedom nor death. The enchanted chains that bound him prevented his movement beyond a small radius, and her limited spiritual powers could not break them. And when his hoarse whisper begged her to kill him, she found that the cuts made by her knife would heal in the blink of an eye.

 

She could do nothing, absolutely nothing. So she cradled his head in her lap and shed tears, for they were all she had left to give. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed in sleep, and she wondered if it were possible that she had also given him a measure of peace.

 

……

 

Things could not stay as they were, and she knew this. Eventually, her stolen visits to the prisoner were discovered. Perhaps one of the guards had carried the tale, or perhaps she was just unlucky in her dealings. In the end, it didn't matter. The uncle caught her, and what followed was predictably brutal.

 

Had it been just the uncle, she might have held some hope for survival. Instead, the guards joined in the fray with a blood-lusting frenzy, and she knew she wouldn't live through the night. As the inky blackness lured her to what would be her final rest, she took in the sight of the snarling, chained creature in the cell.

 

The fury, despair and helplessness etched into his face brought forth a power she hadn't known existed. She could depart this life, but she couldn't leave him behind to suffer at their hands. A warm, pink glow encased her body, drawn from a place deep within her soul. With a loud explosion that shook the earth, the powerful bonds encasing the magical creature were broken.

 

……

 

She didn't remember what happened next, for she fell unconscious. She regained awareness long enough to know that she was somewhere deep within a forest, and since she was still among the living, she was safe. It was enough, and she allowed herself to rest within the creature's warm embrace.

 

Many days later, when at last her body had mended itself, she asked him a question. “Why?” she wanted to know as they began to journey across the land, headed to safer territories. “Why do you stay with me? You saved my life; you owe me nothing.”

 

There was a long pause before he answered. “You are her,” he told her, scratching the words out in a voice ragged with lack of use. “I recognized your scent.”

 

This confused her. “So?” she queried. “You remembered me from the time I was with your brother - that doesn't mean anything. You still don't have any obligation toward me.”

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head in mild exasperation. “You don't understand. You are her.”

 

He was right - she didn't understand.

 

……

 

“You had a magnificent sword of your own,” she remembered one day, “and a human girl who used to follow you. What happened to them?”

 

Molten eyes grew soft, and she could see the immeasurable pain in their depths. “Gone,” was all he said in answer to her question.

 

She thought he was referring to the girl, and not just the sword.

 

……

 

Years passed, and their feelings solidified. One night, she finally understood.

 

“Let me love you,” he whispered softly, clawed hands gently parting her clothing when she kissed him passionately. It was the same thing he always said before they joined, his acknowledgement of a past where this had been done against her will too many times. That he continued to ask for her permission - in spite of their years spent together - made her care for him all the more. She opened her heart as well as her body, and when he cried out another name in his passion, she realized what he'd meant that long-ago day.

 

You are her, he had said.

 

And she was her. The knowledge could have brought sadness, but it didn't. “For you, I will be her,” she murmured, pulling his warmth close and hugging him tightly.

 

And she was.

 

……

 

The youthful priest busily engaged in sweeping the courtyard of the shrine was startled out of his contemplative thoughts by the arrival of a silver-haired creature. Dressed in simple clothing, the thing-that-was-not-human carried a bundle in his arms, clutching it tightly to him as if it were the most precious object in the world.

 

Hesitantly, the priest stepped forward to greet the pair. Closer examination revealed the bundle to be an old woman, a petite, frail thing with hair gone white from age. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing labored. The young man felt a coil of dread forming within his belly as he studied the anxious creature and the woman who was so clearly close to death.

 

“What do you need?” the priest questioned. He hoped the creature wasn't about to ask for a miracle; such things were in rather short supply these days. And he definitely hoped the creature wouldn't take his disappointment out on the shrine. The edifice was fairly new, and the occupants within had considered themselves fortunate to escape destruction from the various wars.

 

“She's dying,” the creature said bluntly. “She wants to be here, at this shrine. Will you let her stay?”

 

It was a strange request, but not the strangest the priest had ever received. “You will leave when it is done?” he asked, relieved when the magical being nodded his head. There was no telling what the other visitors to the shrine might think.

 

The creature stayed by the woman's side throughout the long night, cradling her in his arms as her body began the process of unbinding her soul. From time to time he would tenderly stroke her hair from her face, whispering soft words of love into her ears. The young priest watched the two of them and marveled, for it was not an ordinary thing to see such devotion.

 

And when it was over, the creature shed tears, openly and without shame. “She cried for me, more than once,” the magical being told the astonished priest, through a voice thick with grief. “I can give her this much.” With a final kiss upon her forehead, the creature walked from the shrine.

 

The priest chased after him. “What was her name?” he asked. “We will offer our prayers for her soul.”

 

The creature, so human but yet so not-human, flicked an ear in a manner that was decidedly dog-like. “Her name? This time, her name was Rin,” he answered. “Last time, it was Kikyo. In another time, it will be Kagome. After that, I don't know what she'll be called. She'll be mine, though, no matter what name she uses.”

 

And with that, the hanyou disappeared into the wooded area known by the villagers as `Inu-Yasha's forest.'

 

……

 

A/N: What can I say - the one-shot muse sitting on my shoulder can come up with some odd stuff…

 

Credit where credit is due - there are several places where I've come across the notion of Rin being Kikyo's reincarnation, but the creative spark for this particular fic was Mistakes, by fallenangel7583. Her fic has nothing to do with this one, but it's an incredibly good, angsty read. Check it out.

 

Thanks to TitianWren for the beta-work. I rely heavily on her `overthinking.'